I like the poetry of William Carlos Williams. He is a Jersey boy like myself, born in 1883 in Rutherford. He went off to medical school at the University of Pennsylvania, but returned home and had a solid medical practice throughout his life. Simultaneously, he was publishing poems, novels, essays, and plays.
His poem “Spring and All,” begins:
By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast—a cold wind.
It was written shortly after T. S. Eliot‘s “The Waste Land” which is another spring poem that opens with an unpleasant view of the season:
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
I am feeling more optimistic about the new season, so I am more in an e e cummings kind of spring.
whistles far and wee